


Shy Girls

by gubby



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, it doesn't go the whole way, we got some nudity but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubby/pseuds/gubby
Summary: You're shy as hell. That only makes Arthur like you more.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur woke up, bleary-eyed and sore as always, but snapped his eyes open as he noticed movement. He was able to just barely catch the retreating flutter of a familiar skirt, the wearer briskly walking just out of sight in the nick of time. Didn’t matter though. Arthur could tell your footsteps apart from anyone else’s, and easily. Despite the heels on your boots, the patter of your feet is always light and quick, hard for the untrained ear to detect. He turned to the crates beside his cot, eyes catching on what you’d left behind.

A new box of express bullets, a polished new cattleman revolver, and a little cloth sack tied with a ribbon. His previous revolver had been bent irreparably in a freak accident during a shootout in which it had been kicked beneath the hooves of a panicking horse. And clearly, you’d remembered him being sore about it when he arrived back at camp. He curiously picked up the cloth bag and undid the ribbon, though the weight of the contents had already revealed what they were.

The outlaw was greeted with a rainbow assortment of jelly beans, with all of the licorice ones carefully plucked out. Like a lot of kids, he hated anise, and clearly you had caught him saying so. Probably when he was drunk. You were quiet, but very observant, as Arthur was finding out. He quickly noticed that his gifts were left without a note, or really any indication of the sender’s identity. He assumed that was on purpose, recalling the way you had skittered away from his tent after you’d dropped off the goods. Too cute to be real.

And it hadn’t been the first time something like this had happened, though this had been admittedly a much grander gesture than usual. Arthur often caught glimpses of your red face turning away from him, afraid to be caught staring. He felt the shivers than ran through you when he’d clap his hand on your shoulder in thanks for a favor you’d done. You had it bad, but it seemed that you’d rather die than tell anyone, much less confess to Arthur how you felt.

And though he liked to see you squirm and attempt to mask your feelings under the intensity of his gaze, Arthur Morgan was not a man who waited for what he wanted when he could just make it happen himself. He perhaps even fancied himself a man of action. Not to mention that he’d already seen some wandering eyes, and soon enough the rest of these fools would catch on to what a treasure you are and try to snatch you up for themselves. And being the meek little think you are, you might just let them. And Arthur ain’t gonna stand to see that come to fruition.

So he arises, tussling his hair in his mirror for a few moments before he deems it casual but still handsome enough, and goes off to approach you. You’re meticulously polishing a pistol when he greets you with a ‘howdy’, startling you into nearly dropping it. He fleetingly wonders how you haven’t ever shot anyone on accident. You turn to face him as he comes to sit beside you, but very clearly look at his chest rather than his eyes. He can’t help but crack a toothy grin at how you shirk away from his gaze in embarrassment.

“Was awful kind of you to bring me those things, darlin’. I’m liable to get spoiled with you around to take care of me like you do.” You give pause to collect yourself and to be certain that he’s finished with what you perceive as nothing less than a planned attack on your frail emotional constitution. And you’d be right.

“Not at all. I… I was happy to do it, Arthur.” To the untrained eye, it would almost seem like you hate him. But he knows better. He can see the bounce of your knee under the table, the absent movements of your hands, polishing what’s very clearly already cleaned to perfection.

“Y’know, you’re cute as hell, rabbit. Treat a man as good as this and he might get ideas. But trust me when I say that I ain’t gettin’ any ideas I didn’t already have,” he leans much closer than before to speak rather lowly, and he’s oh so tempted to grab your chin and make you see whatever ravenous emotion is burning in his eyes. “Don’t wanna mince words none. I think I love you. If you ever feel like goin’ against your better judgement? Come find me.”

Arthur parts without another word, going to mount up for another day of killin’ and thievin’, leaving you stunned and speechless. You hadn’t said anything, but Arthur had the feeling he already knew what your decision was, even if you didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur rode briskly yet casually back into camp, freshly bathed and feeling smug. He could already spot you easily, sitting on the grass near to his tent but not quite near enough that someone looking on could make a connection. You seemed to be watching the ground intently, though whether there was actually something to watch or you were just lost in thought, he didn’t know. But he liked to think that you were absorbed in your thoughts of what could happen tonight, if you let it.

You were so entranced that he was able to approach you without you noticing, just as he had this morning. As he drew nearer he saw you crush a biscuit in your hand and gently empty your hand onto the ground. His one-track mind was easily diverted, and Arthur suddenly found himself curious as to what you were doing. He eclipsed enough of the setting sun to cast a recognizable shadow, and you turned your head to look at the source, though briefly. You had known by now that if Arthur has something to say, he’s say it whether or not you looked at him. Meanwhile, Arthur looked just past you to the ground, observing the steady line of ants carrying the crumbs from the biscuit you’d ground up earlier, their little black abdomens just barely visible in the evening light.

“You uh, feedin’ the ants there?” Were you just that considerate of every little thing? Is that why you cared so much about a cutthroat asshole like him?

“Yeah. Jack accidentally stepped on their hill earlier. I… I felt bad, so I-- I thought I’d try to help them…” You spoke quietly and trailed off, as if you were hoping he didn’t hear you, even though you oughta know by now that he hangs on your every word whenever he has the pleasure of speaking to you. And he felt his heart skip almost uncharacteristically, as if you’d just told him a filthy secret. You looked to him for a few moments after speaking, before quickly realizing what you had been doing and turning back to your little charity cases, while Arthur feebly attempted to put what he was thinking into coherent words.

“Y’know darlin’, earlier I said I thought I loved you,” he can see your shoulders tense, and he attempts to continue quickly, so as not to frighten you with his usual mischievous countenance. “But now I know I love you. Will you have me?”

He leans down and offers a hand to you, and though the physical gesture is one of offering, his eyes are nothing short of desperate pleading. Like he’s so completely and utterly possessed by you, that a refusal would just snap his heart in two. Luckily for him, you’ll do no such thing.

Though Arthur has the intense urge to snap his grip closed when you place your hand in his, he waits. He waits for you to be the one to grab onto him before he grabs you back and pulls you up and along to his tent before drawing the flaps for a bit of privacy. Not that there’s a great need for privacy, as it’s currently the particular quiet twilight hour in which most are content to be off by themselves rather than anything else.

You’re almost hastily guided to the cot, Arthur seeming to forget himself and the occasion in his eagerness. He waits to see you relax before he slowly moves in to kiss you, careful to leave plenty of time for you to pull yourself away. He had quite a few kisses in his youth, some not appropriate for company, but this was undoubtedly the most satisfying he’d had in his life. Simple, yet so wholly indicative of your character-- hesitant and soft, with all the care and consideration in the world. Arthur wondered if you’d ever kissed anyone at all before now, but the query left him quickly as he realized it didn’t matter, even if you had he’d still be your first in many other respects. He remembers your nature and slows his thoughts and actions, unwilling to risk compromising your comfort.

“Want you to know that we don’t gotta go further, not tonight, not ever if you don’t wanna. I’ll still love you, you don’t gotta be afraid of refusin’ me, hun.” Arthur steels himself to receive your reply, confident he’d done the right thing for once. He watches intently as your expression softens in thought, a near uncharacteristic drop of your ever-present guard. 

“I want to. I promise.”

As someone who had known you as long as he had, Arthur knew you didn’t throw around that word lightly. And maybe that was a big part of why you were seen as so shy-- you never wanted to say anything you didn’t absolutely mean. So as you could guess, Arthur’s heart is melting into a dangerously sweet honey that’s dripping its way downward from his chest to his cock. You had better meant what you said, ‘cause there’d be no stoppin’ him now.

Arthur presses a gentle palm to your sternum, easing you down to lay on the cot. He peels off his gloves and throws his hat to a forgotten corner, before suddenly cupping his hands against your clothed breasts and kneading them, smirking at the way you gasp. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. With a brisk two-handed pull, buttons fly as your blouse is tugged open and your chemise is pushed up. His mouth eagerly latches onto one of your nipples, sucking and kissing your breath away. Once again, he seems to come back to himself and ease his attentions. Arthur parts from your chest, grabbing your hand to guide it to the buttons on his shirt. 

Slowly and curiously you peel off his clothes, and he helps you out of yours, though he’s much more efficient in doing so. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The outlaw can feel himself swooning at the picture before him, naked as the day you were born and very clearly trying to be brave and keep his gaze, while your chest heaves and your eyes threaten to dart. The perfect prey, and he’d be damned if he did anything less than devour you.


End file.
